


Born Sick

by TempestRising



Series: Omega Niall Series [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha Liam, Alpha Zayn, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Louis, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mating Bond, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Niall, Self-Harm, Zayn Leaves One Direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestRising/pseuds/TempestRising
Summary: Niall spends his whole life grounded by the church, but when Zayn leaves One Direction and Niall's bond mark becomes infected, he has to learn how to save himself.Or: 5 times Niall felt safe in a church and 1 time he didn't.





	Born Sick

"We were born sick"  
You heard them say it  
My church offers no absolutes  
He tells me "worship in the bedroom"  
The only heaven I'll be sent to  
Is when I'm alone with you  
I was born sick, but I love it

**Take Me To Church by Hozier**

.***.

**i.**

They were at the bungalow, which, in a lot of ways, is where the story really began. Not on the X-Factor stage but crowded on the floor, mattresses pushed together, talking. They weren't famous yet. They were barely more than normal boys. But there was an excitement coloring the air, a taste on the tongue like mint and freedom.

When the night grew dark and Louis stopped antagonizing a still-shy Liam, flopping on the floor next to Harry, already his favorite, the eldest murmured quietly, "So. Should we do the gender thing?"

"It's going to be a very boring gender thing," Harry said, leaning into him. "I haven't presented yet."

"Nor have I," echoed Zayn and Niall.

The four boys looked at Liam, who seemed to be trying very hard to blend into the background. "Um," he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I have. Alpha."

Louis whistled. "You don't seem the dominant type."

"I'm not," Liam defended, quickly. "I - I try not to be. But sometimes I can get - I've been told I can get - a little...protective. The big sisters are both betas and I mother them something awful."

"Don't you go doing that around here," Louis warned. "If this is going to be a band we aren't having an alpha hierarchy, I'll leave right now."

"Never! But - you have to be old enough to present," Liam said, "Beta, then?"

Beta was more of a lack of presentation then presentation itself. A band of betas would be nice, as they were usually level-headed under pressure, more flexible than alphas and sterner than omegas.

As quickly as Louis had begun the conversation about gender he switched gears, looking pointedly away from Liam. "What about singing? I mean, I know you all can sing. But why'd you start?"

Because they couldn't stop, almost everyone said. Because Liam dreamed about notes and Harry dreamed of the stage and Zayn wanted to sing as much as he could and Louis couldn't stop being the center of attention. And Niall...

Church was a habit he couldn't shake, Niall explained. He'd started singing in a choir. The local church was his favorite place. Greg used to walk Niall to the tiny parish after school, but Niall had to make his way home alone, and more often than not he would stick behind in the church, not wanting to face his father and brother and the cool scrape of forks on plates. Niall's attempts to fill the silence were always met with one-word, polite questions. He'd learned to stop talking a long time ago.

He saved his words for he priests. Father Joseph directed the choir and had a strong, clear tenor. He would let Niall straighten up the pews after rehearsal, and then would invite him to the priest's dinner, where the fathers and the brothers from the Jesuit school down the lane would listen interestedly to his stories.

Niall loved the church. He'd entertained the idea of going into the priesthood and -

"Priesthood?!" Louis exclaimed, aghast. "What, with the no sex and whatever?"

Niall flushed and rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans.

"I think it's nice," Zayn said, quietly. "I think it's real admirable. My mother wanted me to be a kyai but I always skived off prayers to play footie."

"I think you would've been a good leader," Niall replied, just as quietly. The other boys were watching the two shift closer. "You could still be a good leader."

They were still so very young, young enough for Harry to hum contentedly and bury himself in Louis's chest, for Zayn to lean back until he was pressed against Niall's knees, for Niall to pull in lovely, worried Liam, one hand drawing him close, close, closer.

**ii.**  
After Niall presented (this was in 2012) he avoided the one place everyone told him to go.

"They're your family," Louis said, pleading. Louis loved his family more than the breath in his body and Niall shook his head because he and his lot just weren't like that, not anymore.

"They love you," Ed Sheeran said quietly, at the New Years Party where 2012 bled into 2013. His house frothing with artists from all of the world, Ed had slipped out on the porch long after the fireworks to talk to Niall, who was sitting by the bushes, momentarily abandoned. "They love you, they're your family."

"They won't care," Ashton pointed out, sleepily. They were sat backstage on the biggest tour so far and it was one of those days where Niall felt omega to the core. "They shouldn't care." Ashton cast one eye over the band's betas. His betas. And Niall thought, meanly, that life must be easy for the other genders.

Because of course they cared. They hadn't answered Niall's calls in months. It was only when the tour took them within a hundred miles of his house that Harry's constant nudges forced Niall to his father's porch.

"Are you embarrassed of us?" Harry asked, all wide eyes and trembling lip. "Is that why you don't want to take us there?"

So Niall directed the car around the twisting bends of the country backroads, mostly to get the pack off his fucking back.

Greg's face was stony when he opened the door and ushered Niall, silently, into the house. "These your alphas?"

"And beta!" Louis chipped in, cheerily.

Greg turned to Niall. "Are you pregnant? You're a breeder, right? So are you pregnant?"

"No! Do I need a reason to visit my own home?"

"This isn't your home anymore," Greg said. "If you -"

"If he what?" Harry asked, one hand on Niall's shoulder, the other balling into a fist. "If he was born an alpha? If he could stop biology and stop himself for being an omega? Niall is thriving. He is doing spectacularly well in a difficult industry, and all you have to say to him is ask whether he's pregnant?"

It was more of that, Niall trying to shrink small, smaller, especially when his father walked in the room and gave his two cents, that Niall may not be able to help his gender but that the family would appreciate he took his body elsewhere.

"He almost died," Louis cut in, his voice strangled.

"Lou, no, please," Niall knew how fruitless it was to argue, with Louis this riled up, but he had to try.

"He almost killed himself because he was terrified about your opinion, and you're just feeding those fears with this bullshit."

Bobby Horan, Niall's all-time hero, snorted, and Niall felt himself snap in two. They left not long after.

Harry was crying by the time they got in the car and Niall couldn't stand to see that over an answer he'd already seen coming. "Should we -" Liam began.

Niall leaned forward and told their driver different directions.

Father Joseph was supervising the altar boys as they tidied. Niall used to be one of them, the gentle camaraderie with the other boys the basis of his firmest friendships. When the priest saw Niall walk through the door, he stood up, arms out. "Hello, father," Niall said, in that relieved tone he should have used on his biological dad.

The priest engulfed Niall in a bone-crushing hug.

After dismissing the altar boys, after they had gaped at the band coming through the door and two of them had gotten pictures with the alphas, iPhones emerging from ancient robes, and one of them had hugged Louis fiercely, blushing to his hairline, after they were gone, fetching the priests and deacons who were in the dormitory nearby, after Niall introduced his pack and Father Joseph told them that of course he knew who they were, thank you for taking care of our Niall. Our Niall. Afterwards, the church made dinner for the boys (and their driver) and they squeezed around the simple slab table.

"Your family is wrong, Niall, I hope you know that," Father Joseph said. "There is nothing, nothing at all, wrong with being an omega. Omegas have long been called to God. Look at me. Look at my brothers."

The priests, young and old, nodded. There wasn't an alpha in the bunch, and most of the omegas were sitting as far away from Niall's alphas as possible.

"They made it pretty clear," Niall coughed, embarrassed, "they don't want me in that house. But I can't stay away."

Father Joseph patted him on the shoulder. "If you want to come home, come here. There will always be room for you in the church. Your pack, too."

Liam, always one to stick his foot in his mouth, piped up, "We're not Catholics, sir."

"You are welcome," Father Joseph repeated, firmly. "You are most welcome."

Niall looked down at his lap, hiding his smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt truly at home.

**iii.**

For a while he was only allowed to visit 5sos if someone stood outside the door. Amsterdam had wrecked both bands, everyone blaming themselves, except for Luke, who blamed Niall.

For a while Luke didn't want to be in the same room as Niall, hurt and a tinge of fear passing over his face, always needing Michael or, ideally, Ashton nearby. Ashton, who had become his sometimes-mate. Ashton, who loved Niall but would carry a grudge for Luke as far as it had to go.

And then one night, for a variety of reasons, Niall and Luke were alone together. This was two months after Amsterdam. They were in Rome. They were doing okay, except sometimes Luke couldn't be left alone, and sometimes certain men made him nervous. But it was just one of those things, like Niall's claustrophobia. They handled it.

"When we were in Amsterdam," Luke began, suddenly. They were in the hotel bar, the last two awake. Luke also had nightmares. "When we were in Amsterdam, what were you thinking? When they - when they had us. When they - you know. Did stuff."

"I didn't think anything. You know that. I was in subspace. I just lost those days."

"Cuz I just kept thinking," Luke said, as if Niall hadn't spoken. He may have been drunk. "About _Sherlock_. Do you remember? That first episode, Sherlock asks John, he says, 'what would you think if you only had minutes left alive?' or something like that, and John says, 'I'd think 'Please God Let Me Live.''"

"I've never seen _Sherlock_."

Luke stared ahead, lifting the glass to his lips robotically. "That's what I was thinking. Please god, let me live. Over and over. Even when they raped me. I just wanted to see my mum again. The boys."

"Oh, Luke..."

"And you. I wanted to see you again. I wanted to save you. Probably beta instincts." Luke looked at Niall and Niall wished he hadn't, those eyes seeing parts of him that Niall himself had never explored. "I'm sorry I've been awful."

"We're all sorry. We're all so sorry we couldn't save you. I'm sorry."

"Happened to you, too," Luke said, fairly. And he was a teenager and should have the right to be unfair but that was another thing that had been taken from him in Amsterdam. "Anyway. If you had been thinking about something, then, what would it have been?"

"The boys," he said without hesitation. "They were the first thing I thought about, when I could think about anything."

"No God for you?"

Niall hadn't gone to church since Amsterdam. At first there were doctor's visits and too many press meetings to count, and then he'd gotten a letter, he got loads of letters, after, but he got a letter, one of those first weeks, that said _I'm praying for you_. And Niall realized he hadn't prayed since the incident. He shrugged or Luke. "You'd know if you were in a pack."

"Ugh. Don't say that, Ash's already mothering something awful. Michael would watch me sleep." Luke swirled the drink. The bartender had already gone home. It was proper dark and quiet now. Niall could hear his own heart. "Look, I don't really get the whole religion thing. It's never remotely been part of my life. But I think church for you is like - it's like yoga for Harry. It's a place where the thoughts buzz around for the first couple minutes and then everything melts away. So if you're not going because you're mad at God or whatever, I'd suggest rethinking that."

"Maybe I've grown out of church," Niall suggested. He realized he was playing Devil's Advocate, which was a position within the Catholic Church. "Maybe I just need my pack. They've helped me an awful lot these past weeks. God hasn't done a thing."

"I should have died," Luke pointed out. "They slit my throat. I should have died or at least lost my voice but I'm alive and, you know, mostly intact, and Ash seems to love me anyway. I asked God to let me live and he went above and beyond." Luke dug into his jeans. The bartender had been a young, exhausted-looking guy, and though he'd said the drinks were on the house Luke dropped a handful of euros into the tip jar. "Tomorrow's Sunday. I'll go with you, if you need a buddy. We can go to the Vatican. That's like, a super church, right? God will have to listen to you there. If you don't feel like praying, there's some pretty cool art."

Niall ducked his head. "I think I liked it better when you resented me."

"I can still make you suffer. You get to buy me at least three espressos tomorrow."

Luke grinned, extended a hand, and helped Niall to his feet.

**iv.**

After that, after being a band for a while and getting more input on scheduling decisions, Niall made it clear, in the endless meetings that made up the schedule, that he'd like Sunday mornings open as often as possible, that he'd make all the arrangements himself, if he had to, but he really, really wanted to go to church. By the Where We Are tour, their lives were so scheduled that church was his oasis, his getaway. The pack had stopped coming with him months ago, apologetic but unable to sit still for the hour, or keep up with the Bible studies Niall attended afterwards a variety of languages. On a Sunday morning in San Diego, he got up and pulled on his boots.

"Hey," came a sleepy voice. Harry and Liam were at the gym. Louis was busy avoiding the gym. So it was Zayn that Niall had been trying to sneak around as he got dressed.

"Go back to sleep, Z. Just church."

Zayn was the only other member who was remotely religious, and Niall had been careful never to make Zayn feel compelled to come to church with him. They used to have discussions, when they were young and trying to figure each other out, before Niall had presented, even, about Islam and Christianity, dizzying discussions of minutia and holy days, both boys so used to defending themselves to the wayside Protestants that pervaded their lives that this free exchange of information felt like taking a deep breath after nearly drowning.

Zayn had become less overtly religious as anti-Islamic fear mongering spread to every corner of the globe. As Louis would say, it is what it is. But sometimes thinking about it too hard made Niall's heart break.

"I'll come with you."

"You don't have to. Go back to sleep."

But Zayn was already heading into the bathroom. "Who've you got taking you?"

"Alberto. It's only a couple blocks away. I'm gonna walk and everything."

"Alberto's a beta."

"It's fine. Nothing's ever happened."

Zayn stuck his head out of the bathroom, massaging wax into his hair. "I don't mind. I want to see the sun. I want to see you, babe, we haven't seen each other in ages."

"We performed together last night." But it was true. The five of them got split into groups too often nowadays, Niall and Harry in one room, Louis, Liam, and Zayn in another (Niall thought it was a stupid set up. Louis should be with Harry. Louis antagonized Liam for fun, and was usually gentled by Harry.) The groups made its way into every part of their lives. The different tour busses and even different meal times, so the only time the pack could be a pack was in the early mornings and at night.

Zayn seemed determined, pulling jeans over his boxers, walking around shirtless so Niall could stare at his tattoos, the gun slung about his hips. "If you really don't mind."

Five minutes later Alberto rapped on the door. Recently they'd been banned from going to the lobby themselves, fans too often around there, though the rule didn't stop Louis and Liam sneaking out to clubs at all hours, coming back smelling of sweat and night breezes, laughing at the pictures of the night that made it to the news, of the two of them making out, of Louis grinding on Liam on the dance floor, Liam's hands big on Louis's waist.

"Hold onto each other, boys," Alberto said as they walked out of the building to a fairly small crowd. It was an unnecessary reminder, the two already holding hands. The girls _awwed._

Niall took some pictures with the nearest fans while Zayn knelt next to a girl in a wheelchair, nodding to a story as he signed her One Direction notebook. Zayn was good at that, at the Make-A-Wish kids that left Harry in tears. Zayn didn't show it to the world, but he had the biggest heart. It was one of the reasons Niall liked days like this. Zayn liked to show his love in, well, the little things. He drew pictures of the pack as super heroes, as velociraptors, as mermaids. He Sharpied tattoos on every part of Niall's bare body. He hugged often. He would come back after an interview with a cup of tea for Louis. And he kept a hand on Niall as they walked through the crowd, as if grounding the omega was his only job in the world.

"We're a little early," Niall said, apologetically. Alberto stood facing the door, eyes flitting between his two charges and the open doorway. "You can look around, if you want."

"I'd like to stay with you."

Niall grinned, smoothing his shirt. They were recognized only once. The vast majority of the people sitting in the pews were silver-haired and frail and surely not One Direction fans. They made their way to a niche near the altar, Niall kneeling smoothly in front of the crucifix, Zayn standing and feeling like everyone was looking at his hair and the tattoos on his skin. Niall dropped a coin into a box and picked up a match, holding it over the flame of a burning candle and lighting four more, his expression serious but happy.

"What are those for?" Zayn asked, his whisper lilting.

"The four of you."

Niall closed his eyes and Zayn wondered if he was praying. "What about you?"

"You don't pray for yourself. Or at least I don't."

Zayn dug around in his pockets and came up with a heavy golden pound. He hoped the wrong currency could still count as he dropped it into the bucket, picking up his own match. He hoped God understood prayers in Urdu, because the best, most worshipful prayers he knew had been taught to him as a child, when his mother still hoped they could be bilingual.

He lit a candle next to the four Niall had already lit. "Is this okay?"

Niall gaped at him and Zayn wondered if he'd done something terribly wrong, if Muslim men were banned from touching the holy match, of whatever. Niall's church had a lot of rules, he knew, about women and omegas and even about pack relationships. Maybe he'd broken a rule he'd never been told.

Then Niall kissed him quickly, just behind Zayn's ear, on that hollow, soft spot. And Zayn would have to take that as a yes.

**v.**

This is what happened.

In the aftermath of Niall's last heat before the On the Road Again tour, Harry had gone back to Louis and Liam was making breakfast and Zayn was petting Niall's hair, both of them looking at the ceiling of Harry's LA home. And suddenly Niall reached up, grabbed Zayn's petting hand.

"What's up?" the Bradford boy asked.

And what could Niall say? That he'd seen Zayn get thinner, that he noticed and cared about the deep bruises of bags under his eyes, that Niall knew One Direction's music wasn't what Zayn wanted to make, and he'd heard the amazing songs Zayn would show Louis, the ones he wanted to write that just weren't boy band-y. That Zayn was dissatisfied, and the stupid omega part of Niall assumed that it was his fault.

But Niall couldn't say out of this out loud. Or maybe he could, and he was just too much of a coward, and Liam calling from the kitchen about a full fry-up was enough of an excuse to just not say anything at all.

This is what happened.

Zayn left and broke all of their hearts. Harry's smile became a bitter smirk and he was touchy and short-tempered whenever Zayn's name came up. Louis assumed he'd missed something important and punished himself by doing increasingly reckless things, the hard drugs he hadn't touched in more than a year and fighting with Zayn on Twitter, and Harry's energy was suddenly focused on the newly wild beta.

Niall had been going to church more often, on weeknights and early mornings, whenever he could, searching the place he'd always loved for answers. He had just gotten back and it was late and he walked into the bathroom, intending to join Liam in the shower, to see the Alpha cutting himself over and over and over and over, red bleeding lines on his upper thighs, a place certainly covered by clothing. And Niall dropped to his knees and begged. Liam was the strong one. Liam wasn't at fault. No one could have kept Zayn in a place that was hurting him. They all loved him enough to watch him go.

This is what happened.

After Zayn left, Niall went into heat again, a four-month early heat. He was inconsolable. Zayn's bond mark, a kiss on Niall's left collarbone, had started to fester. The infection was red and warm to the touch, and Harry and Liam spent a long, long time trying to lick it closed.

Five weeks after his heat, they were on tour and Niall begged Louis to get him a pregnancy test. Something was wrong, he said. He could feel it. He was pregnant, he was sure he was pregnant, and Louis didn't have the heart to tell him that the ache in his chest, in all of their chests, was a simple broken heart, so he procured a pregnancy test and he and the omega sat on the counter of the bathroom sink in yet another hotel room, thinking up names as they waited for the result. Negative.

Niall began to talk about priesthood in that wistful way, and the pack would hold him tight, because you couldn't be a priest and have a pack and it felt like everyone wanted to leave now, all at once.

Liam began to cut the thin skin on his hip bones and one fan had noticed as his shirt rode up in Cleveland.

Everyone was trying to call Zayn. Louis's mother. Harry's sister. Niall's cousins. He picked up for no one.

Harry tried to take the questions about Zayn in interviews but he couldn't help his harsh words, didn't know how angry he was until he started talking, and then he couldn't stop. They'd have to redo the interview over again to get a printable quote.

It was hard-partying Louis who was desperately trying to hold them together.

This is what happened.

One night, Louis found Liam cutting over an already scabbed inner arm. And Louis couldn't watch this anymore, watch the pain of trying to be Alpha of a broken pack manifest itself into rivers of blood.

He flopped onto the floor, the end of a five-star hotel bed. Liam had put a towel on the floor so he wouldn't bleed all over the carpet, and Louis found this thoughtfulness so sweet that his throat was suddenly closed with emotion.

He held out his arm, the tattoos crawling up it, pointed to the one that Zayn had drawn. "Do me."

Liam stared.

"Cut me. It helps you, you've run out of skin, so do me. Hurt me. Looks cathartic."

And Liam reeled back as if Louis had hit him and the sob that came from his throat was not near human and he flinched when Louis touched him and he cried and Louis's world shattered.

"I couldn't," Liam kept repeating, "I won't. Don't ask me to I don't want to I don't want to to myself I don't want to hurt you don't make me don't make me -"

Louis wrapped his arms around Liam and pretended not to feel the flinch. "I'm sorry." Liam's face was the void at the end of the world because it felt like the end of the world. Liam admitting he was falling apart, Liam, the strongest of all of them, solid and caring and unable to stop his love deep as a well for someone who had hurt them - "I'm sorry I'm sorry."

"Shh, love." Louis rocked Liam back and forth on the cold bathroom floor. They were surrounded by blood. Louis wrapped his hand around the cuts. "Shh, love. I'm sorry, too. I don't want to see this anymore, love. You're going to hurt yourself and where would you leave us? I'm selfish, Li. I need you to help me."

Liam pressed his face into Louis's chest and shook with the force of his sobs, the blood dripping, the blood everywhere.

This is what happened.

Louis called a doctor and held the Alpha as the careful beta woman bandaged him and spoke softly. They were surrounded by people. Niall and Harry were there, looking sad and tired and like they, too, where about to cry. Much of the crew was there, Lou playing the stand-in mother role she'd assumed during their first tour, one hand on Liam and the other on Niall. Sandy was ushered out of the room by his alpha-stand-in Jon. The doctor turned to Niall and clucked over his infected bond mark and told them what they already knew, that the infection would fester, badly, until the alpha he'd bonded with closed his own mark. "It's a rare phenomenon," the doctor said, sounding entirely too impressed, "if the bonded alpha dies or breaks up with the omega, the wound will usually close on its own."

Niall knew all this but saying it out loud just confirmed that Zayn didn't even care enough about them, about Niall, to make a clean break. And Niall knew why. He'd felt the loneliness and sadness and anger pouring over Zayn's bond for a while, and Niall hadn't helped, and Zayn was punishing him from afar, and Niall deserved it.

Still, Niall pulled away from the doctor and Harry pushed the omega towards the Alpha. Liam wrapped his arms around Niall and they both collapsed onto the bed. This was one of those times where instinct took over, had to take over. So Harry watched his boyfriends, his fiancés fall into each other's arms, watched Niall carefully maneuver so he touched all of Liam but the bandages, watched Liam wipe away Niall's tears. And Harry put a hand on Louis's shoulder and steered the beta out of the room.

**+i.**

And then.

Zayn had been gone for months and months and Niall's heat was coming up again, supposedly, though he'd had one only four months before, and he woke up at night because the infection was rubbed red and raw, warm and tender as a bruise, and spreading, the infection almost reaching Harry's bond mark, on Niall's opposite shoulder.

Niall would rub absent-mindedly at the infection, and Harry would pull his hand away. "You're going to irritate it."

"I just want it gone."

There were no medicines for this. No home-grown cure. The only way was to repair the broken bond, and right now Niall couldn't think of anyone he wanted to see less then Zayn, who had cut his hair and released his song as if he'd been planning it all for a long, long time.

Worst case scenario was the infection would fester and Niall would die. More likely, his immune system would combat the infection and he'd be left with an ugly scar. Way out in left field was the possibility that Zayn, realizing his mistake, would come back to make amends.

At every major city the alphas insisted on bringing in bond mark experts, men and women who all saw his mark and winced and a doctor looking like that was not particularly reassuring.

"The alpha is still alive?" A Canadian expert guessed, probing the mark with strong hands.

"Yes." Liam stood by Niall's shoulder, never taking his eyes from the doctor's hand.

"You need absolution." The man sat across from Niall, tea untouched on the table. "I'm going to guess a couple of things and you can interrupt me if I get anything wrong. I'm guessing you have very nice 21st century alphas who take care of you without punishments. Which is fine. I can't help but follow famous omegas, Niall, it's what my whole profession is, and I saw what happened in Amsterdam. It's horrific and I can see why your pack may have thought that corporeal punishment would remind you of your experiences. It's not a widely used practice, nowadays.

"But what you forgot to put in place, because you guys are young, is a different way for Niall to receive absolution. He's got an omega body wired for ancient approval and I'm betting, Niall, that you feel guilty about driving your alpha away, even though that's patently untrue. I bet you left things on not such a good note, and maybe he tossed blame your way, and your pack was grieving afterwards and didn't no that you need a different way of being told there's nothing wrong. Am I right so far?"

Niall nodded, pulling on his white t-shirt and not looking at Liam, who was wearing that characteristic hang-dog look he had every time he thought he'd done something wrong.

"Here's what you do now. Call your ex-alpha. Zayn, right? Call him and tell him to meet you. Tell him that he needs to bite you again, preferably when you both feel calm, after you've found a way to talk about what happened between you two. I think - I know it's difficult for packs - but I think this should be a one-on-one conversation."

Liam made a little sound like a shatter.

"Okay," Niall said. "Okay."

This time, Niall called Zayn himself, while Liam talked to Harry and Louis. He got Zayn's voicemail, which wasn't entirely unexpected. "Hi Z," he said, after the beep. "I know you've probably heard this from a lot of people, or seen it online or whatever, but your bond mark's infected and, like, there's nothing I can do myself to un-infect it. Can you meet me in London? We need to talk. Meet me at Corpus Christi in two weeks, okay? Ten a.m. I -" Niall choked a little. "I'm hurt bad, Zayn. I need your help."

That night, Louis, Harry, and Liam spread him out on the bed and they had sex and they told Niall how important he was and how lovely and good and how, no Niall, you're not going to die, I'll drag Zayn here myself. And they licked all the right places and Niall panted against them, feeling omega to the core.

"If we go on hiatus," Harry said, after Liam and Louis had gone to take a shower (and from the sounds coming from the bathroom it sounded like a shower Niall wanted to be a part of) "We finally have time to plan the wedding."

Niall felt his stomach flip at the thought. They'd been engaged for just over two years, and one of the worst things about Zayn leaving was the diamond ring he left behind, and they'd discussed it, breaking up, but they loved each other too much to leave. "It can be in Ireland."

"Excuse me, it should be in England."

"Scotland, it's a compromise. On a mountain."

"Those get cold."

"Next May. Somewhere remote, so it can be just us your mums and, like, max twenty-five friends."

"You don't want a James Corden level bash?"

"No. Never." Niall put his head on Harry's chest, both staring at the ceiling. Harry stroked his hair. "I think I'm really sick," Niall admitted.

"Don't say that, babe. It's fixable. Zayn will fix it. He may be angry but he won't let you die." Harry shifted so he was next to Niall, one arm still supporting the omega's head. "Hey. Does it hurt, anywhere? Like, badly?"

"It throbs, mostly. If someone touches it, it's like I'm being stabbed."

Harry leaned up on one side, looking at Niall as if seeing the boy for the first time in a while. "I know," he said. "I feel it, too. I bet Zayn feels it. He'll show up. I know he will."

Two weeks passed in the normal way. On the way back from a venue the driver turned on the radio and there Zayn was, talking on an American station as if nothing had happened. Niall stared at the radio because for a moment it sounded like Zayn was right there, where he used to be, falling asleep under Louis's arm. His voice was almost like a promise. And then Harry reached forward and flicked the radio off and there was only the screams of their fans, and then, finally, silence.

In London, on the day it was supposed to happen, Niall shrugged on a jacket and told the pack that they absolutely were not invited. "You're going to get mad, and I don't need that to happen. I'll take a security guard."

"No," Liam said, firmly. "You'll take us. We'll be out of sight, I -"

Niall slammed the door behind him.

He hated when the pack acted like he needed protection everywhere he went. It was worse after Amsterdam, when even trips to the toilet from the bedroom, or the kitchen from the living room, somehow required three people. But even now, at the end of their fourth tour, Liam and Louis could sneak out and Harry could disappear with his friends and the one time Niall had gone to 5 Seconds of Summer's concert in a nearby city without telling them they came to get him, as if he had a GPS signal built it, and hauled him back home.

He bypassed Alberto in the lobby. Corpus Christi was only two blocks from the apartment, the one they'd all bought together after they became a pack, the beautiful large space that Zayn had left. Niall pulled the hat low around his ears and wished he had a jacket for the cool September weather. And then he was there.

Zayn was kicking a stone outside of the church. He hadn't seen Niall, so Niall had time to just look at him. He'd cut his hair, dyed it. His shirt was baggier and there were muscles in his forearms that Niall was sure had not been there before.

And there was a phone sticking out of the pocket of his not-so-skinny jeans. "So you didn't lose your phone?"

Zayn looked up and took three big steps forward, scooping Niall off his feet. Niall had promised himself not to let Zayn touch him more than what was absolutely necessary (it was cheating, wasn't it, to be with an ex-pack member while the others fretted in their shared home). But he couldn't help but sink into the embrace. Zayn looked different but smelled the same, like cigarettes and cinnamon and coffee. "I meant to call," Zayn murmured into the crook of Niall's neck. "But you know how it is."

Niall knew how it was. How you could do an interview and say, "oh, yeah, all May we've been -" and the interviewer will look at you strangely and say it was June. How time had passed so quickly was anyone's guess.

But this wasn't the same as that. "We called you," Niall said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. Zayn didn't respond well to raised voices. "We told you I'm - hurt, that I'm sick - your bond mark is infected, Zayn. You must have felt it."

"We severed the bond," Zayn said.

"But we didn't! You - we didn't even know you were leaving until right before. You don't know what you did to us, Zayn. We talked about dissolving the pack altogether."

Zayn looked at his feet. His clothes were black all over, even the shoes. Even the shoelaces. "I'm glad you didn't. You guys are perfect together. Harry and Louis...you and Liam."

"You were there, too," Niall said, fiercely. "You were a part of it!"

Zayn looked up, past Niall. They were still outside the church and their raised voices were already attracting stares. God forbid they got papped. Niall seemed to read his mind. "It's illegal for papers to run pictures of people on church property. That's why I wanted to meet here."

"Doesn't stop some girl with a camera posting it on Facebook. Fuck, Ni, you never think about these things."

Niall bristled. "Fine. Where do you want to go?" Niall said this instead of saying that his other reason for being near a church is because it was public and safe. That a small part of him did not want to be left alone with Zayn, who smelled like his boyfriend but who's voice had changed to danger.

As if expecting the question, as if he'd been canvassing the area, Zayn went over to the side of the church and kicked open the entrance to a basement. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."

Niall felt his stomach twist, wished he'd let the other's accompany him, and followed Zayn down into the basement.

It was actually a cozy room, built, perhaps, for Bible studies and Youth Group meetings, and when Zayn flicked on the lights Niall saw comfy chairs, bean bags, a coffee machine in the corner. Zayn sat on a chair, drawing his knees up to his chest and looking, now, like the boy Niall had fallen in love with.

"How bad is it?" Zayn asked, after Niall sat on a poof near the end of Zayn's couch.

Niall unbuttoned his shirt.

The place where Zayn's bond mark had been was black, as if the skin was dead. The skin around his collarbones was red and swollen, and down to his navel everything was peeling and itchy.

"Oh my god," Zayn said, staring at his body. "I - okay, yeah, I felt something though the bond, but I didn't know it would be this bad. I swear I - oh, Ni..."

"You have to stop resenting me. You have to stop - I don't know - being negative. Zayn, you're causing this. And I could die."

"How do I fix it? Do I, like, bite it again? Or - or kiss it? I forgive you, Niall. I was depressed. I was hurting you. It was my fault, not yours. Can I kiss it better?"

Niall scooted closer but it wasn't necessary. Zayn pulled him forward, those new muscles almost as big as Liam's, and soon had Niall pinned under him.

"Zayn..." Niall began, and then Zayn kissed him.

"I did my research, too. I just need to help my omega, babe. Let me help you out." Zayn touched Niall's bare chest almost reverantly, and then kissed Niall again.

For a moment, they were back to last year, when they were all so exhausted but giggly, pairing off in bed, to the year before, after Amsterdam, when they all treated Niall like an egg, new and breakable. To young Zayn who kissed Niall with such confidence, as if he could never want anything else.

Niall put a hand on his stomach and though he couldn't see it, he could feel it. The healing.

"Let me do this for you," Zayn murmured, and unbuttoned Niall's jeans.

But the thing is, Zayn couldn't just help his omega. Because Niall was no longer his.

"Stop," Niall said, the word pressed against Zayn's lips. "Stop, Zayn, it's working."

He tried to sit up but Zayn shook his head, pressing Niall back down by putting his elbow on Niall's throat.

Then. It happened so fast, the basement door flying open and Zayn looking up and then Zayn was gone and Niall shivered, suddenly cold, his jeans halfway to his knees. Louis was next to him, one arm over his chest, as if protecting him from someone.

Niall buttoned his jeans as he raised his head. Liam had Zayn pinned to a wall. He could just barely make out Liam's hissed words. "He is not your omega, you asshole. You left. You have no right to his body."

"He told me to help him!" Zayn was a match for Liam now, and threw the Alpha off.

"So those are the options?" That was Harry speaking up. Harry, who hovered halfway between the alphas and Niall, standing in front of Louis as if to protect him in turn. "Either Niall lets you fuck him or he dies?"

"What? No!"

"That's what we saw, mate," Louis said. "He told you to stop. Twice."

Niall was looking down at his stomach, where the redness continued to fade. As frustrated and pissed as Zayn looked, Niall was still forgiven. "Zayn. Come here."

Omegas never commanded alphas, and his pack would tease Niall endlessly for trying, but Zayn tripped obediently over. "Bite your bond mark, Zayn. Lick it closed. Let me go."

The rest of the pack looked murderous at the thought of Niall and Zayn so intimate, but Zayn was trembling, and no one could ever deny Niall. Zayn bent, and put his mouth on Niall's collarbone.

When it was done, Zayn looked on the verge of tears. "So," he said, "it's over?"

Niall threaded his fingers through Zayn's hand, and kissed the knuckles. "Yes. But I'd still like to see you. I don't know about this lot, but you can maybe text me, sometime. I'll let you know if my number changes. And - hey, maybe you can teach Liam or Harry how to put me in subspace? I haven't been brought down for ages."

Zayn looked conflicted, as if he still wanted something more, but in the end he nodded, resolutely. "Alright. Yeah. I can do that."

"Wanna go up to the church with me?" Niall could hear the rest of the pack groan behind him, but they all obediently followed the omega up the stairs and into the church.

Mass wasn't until the evening, but there were a few parishioners milling about the area. Louis and Liam walked around, staring at the stained glass and glancing at Niall every few seconds, and Harry was roped by a couple of grandmothers who recognized just him from the band. Niall went to the altar, and the rows of candles. He took a pound coin out of his pocket and slipped it in the donation draw. He took a long match, and lit it on an already burning candle, and then moved to light his own.

There were different colors here, and Niall chose deliberately. Pale green, for Harry's eyes, and blue for Louis's. A royal, rich purple for Liam, because it seemed a strong and stout shade. He paused, and Zayn sucked in a breath, but Niall chose one more. White, for Zayn, because white was the color of rebirth, of a blank slate, of starting over again.

Zayn reached past Niall, and lit a candle for the omega. The green of Irish fields, of the country Niall so clearly adored.

Niall glanced down at his chest, were the infection was retreating quickly, and he looked up to thank Zayn, but Zayn was already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this series, everyone. I think this is the last fic, but who knows? I love this pack too much to really leave them behind. 
> 
> Once more for my little sister. Thanks for spending the summer watching YouTube with me.


End file.
